Butterfly Effect
by WikketKrikket
Summary: She could see a world where the deal had never been done, when Ouran's favourite fop had never arrived, never had the idea and never voiced it in Kyouya's living room. But it couldn't be that bad. How much difference could one club make?


A/N: This is one for anyone who ever wondered what would have become of the Hosts had they been club-less; though I have no doubt someone somewhere would have done it before. Heh. My only warning is that angst abounds!

Disclaimer: Surprisingly enough, I have no intention of ever owning Ouran.

Butterfly Effect

I walked down the familiar corridors once more, and I couldn't help but smile. These four walls, the high ceilings, the gleaming glass and the shining, cool marble and the carefully-kept gardens are Ouran High School, and more importantly, my school. There's little tints of gold in the laminate floors, you know. No-one seems to notice unless I point it out.

Then again, that's me all over. I see a lot of things no-one else does, and a lot of things they wouldn't want to see. Sometimes I see things no-one else can. For example, I can see that Haruhi-chan is a girl, and also why she hides it. It's so cute, isn't it? What's cuter, though, is the hearts of the others. I wonder if any of them will actually realise enough to ever tell her? Even I can't see what she'd say if they did. But here's some things I do know, because I've seen them- I know, when you peel away the layers, how sugar-coated Honey-senpai's heart really is, and I know how Haruhi-chan forces herself into oblivion over some things because it's easier, and I know how Kaoru-kun worries about his brother, and how jealous Hikaru-kun is over a certain scholar, and I know how the King himself isn't as silly as he may seem, and I even know what Kyouya-senpai hides behind his cool exterior.

Really, the man has a mind like the inside of a chimney.

All that aside, I saw something unusual that day, and as I walked down the corridor, running my fingers over the smooth wooden panels of the wall, I couldn't get it out of my head. The thing was, I usually only saw the present or the past, or occasionally one of many possible futures. But I had never seen a possible present before. This one was hardly welcome. I had been curious as to what the school would have been like had that door never been opened, had Tamaki-senpai never asked that simple question in Kyouya-senpai's living room, had the Host Club never graced Ouran High. I'd never really imagined something that made a business out of being so trivial would make such a difference. So I was sure they would have been okay.

Only, I was wrong.

I saw Kaoru-kun, sitting alone, an empty desk on all four sides of him, without his shadow nor his duplicate. Hikaru-kun was nowhere within these four walls, was not beneath the high ceilings nor reflected in the gleaming glass. He was, in actuality, on the other side of Japan. Not that Kaoru-kun knew that. No more did Kaoru-kun know that his parents were going to see his brother that day. Or, more precisely, Hikaru-kun's headmaster.

Again.

The separation was supposedly for their own good. I sympathised with their parents, who despaired when their sons were one person, so internalised. They had no other friends. They didn't let anyone come close. The lines that marked where one ended and one began had no definition, and in fact were blurring ever closer together. I hated to see them like that, thinking and speaking and doing everything exactly the same, willingly trapping themselves. But what could they do? There was no-one who could even tell them apart, no-one willing to keep trying and put up with the stubborn boys. So when they moved up to High School, Kaoru-kun continued at Ouran alone. Hikaru-kun was sent to another local school. They could see each other at home, but necessity would force them to branch out.

At least, that was the theory. One with a simple flaw. The two, that were really one, just didn't go to school. More drastic measures were needed. Hikaru-kun, thought to be the dominant of the two, was taken to a boarding school on the far side of Japan. His rare letters home were not shown to Kaoru-kun, and Kaoru-kun was not told where he was. Perhaps it would be better if they could almost forget they were two at all. Perhaps then they could be individual.

I hated to see them like that. The twins were meant to be together, after all. That's not to say the separation was cruel. They were meant to be together, not to be _one. _But there was no-one in this world, in this place, that would break in even a little to their combined soul. There was no good solution.

Hikaru-kun certainly agreed. I saw him there, in that meeting. His mother cried again, and his father was resigned, beyond even telling him off. Hikaru-kun knew, by now, that all these escape attempts were not going to work, that every time he ran from the school, he'd be brought back. I could see he knew that. But he was just protesting, I suppose. It was hard to see through the fog of his own confusion. His room was locked at night and he was taken to his classes by one of the staff, but at least he went to school more then his brother. He didn't look right there, alone amidst his classmates. He was too quiet, too withdrawn, not talking to anyone. I was used to seeing him be the rash one, the one without a level head. I hated to see him there; hated to see that he just didn't care anymore. I could see he didn't want to be in this place, and if he had to be there in body, he would not be there in mind.

Kaoru-kun, of course, knew nothing of this, sitting marooned between the empty desks in 1A's classroom. No-one really wanted to go near him. In fact, only the teacher acknowledged him at all:

"Ah, Hitachiin-kun. I see you've decided to grant us the pleasure of your company." He said, icily.

Kaoru-kun merely shrugged and slumped a little further down in his seat. I was almost glad to see him there, even so. He rarely went to school, and no-one knew where he went. I saw, though, where he spent his days. An old and empty house, where he would be left alone. So terribly alone. Some days, he wrote some poems, to reflect the colour of his soul, but he could not release his heart. I suppose it was locked away, for safe keeping, because to let anyone touch it would be surrender. The poems lay crumpled and discarded on the dusty floor.

Outwardly, I hate to say, he was just mean. I saw something I hated to see. He leant across the empty desk to his left and called to the girl in the row next to it.

"Oi, Fujioka."

She didn't look up from the book she was reading. Her hair had grown slightly from it's short and messy spikes she'd first rolled into Ouran with, but the limp tendrils drooling down by her ears looked worse. She still hadn't bothered to invest in a uniform as no-one seemed to mind what she wore, and although she occasionally wore more girly clothes she seemed to prefer the oversized old jumpers she borrowed from her dad. She was another one, I could see, who didn't care. "What is it?" She asked.

Kaoru-kun stood up and went around in front of her, pushing her book down. She looked up at him, eyebrows raised above large ovular glasses. "You're in Hikaru's seat." He informed her, with a nasty undertone to his voice.

"He's not using it." Haruhi-chan pulled her book back, and snapped it shut, pushing it angrily into her bag. Through this, I guess she was trying to keep her temper. I can't say I blamed her, though I quickly saw she was rather irritable. "He doesn't go to this school anymore, regardless of what the teacher thought when he did the seating plan."

"He's going to come back, though. And you're in his seat."

"If that's the case, I'll give him this seat." Haruhi-chan said, falsely calm. Then crept in a note of sarcasm. "I'm sure he won't mind my using it in his absence…"

"How do you know when you've never met him?" Kaoru-kun demanded. "Or do you just not give one?"

"Frankly, no." Haruhi-chan smiled sweetly, temper breaking. "I don't, as you put it, give one."

I didn't want to watch anymore as the argument continued. Was it any wonder that Haruhi-chan didn't want to sit by Kaoru-kun when he was clearly so angry at the world? Somehow, it seemed like Kaoru-kun was acting more like Hikaru-kun and vice-versa, some sickening subliminal defence technique. It made my stomach turn. I didn't want to see this, when Kaoru-kun was arguing with the one that would know him apart from his brother, would be the only one to really understand their delicate definition and balance between being 'the twins' and being individuals. I hated that Hikaru-kun would never meet her, would never let his world open out because of her. But they couldn't see it like I could, hadn't seen how things would be if they became friends though circumstance. They didn't know. And they did not recognise the other. I looked away when Kaoru-kun eventually went and slouched back in his seat, clearly not wanting to be there. I saw Haruhi-chan instead, and I didn't like to.

She'd still gotten in okay. Well, of course she had, she was smart. I could sort of see that without the club, she was doing even better. Her grade point average was higher, she was top of the class, miles ahead, not even fluctuating from the position occasionally like I normally saw. She was the undisputed highest scorer in the year, breaking even the school records, doing extremely well nationally. But no-one came to her defence when she was bickering with Kaoru-kun anymore than they did for him. After all, without the club to bother her, the third music room had proved to be a very good place to study quietly after all. I could see her there every day before school. And every break time. And every lunch period. She was left in peace, was undisturbed.

I hated to see her like that.

I could see her desire, her obsession, a burning red that drew a grafting sweat from her. Crimson red, blood red; sweat, blood and tears focused on that one thing. To be a lawyer, one good enough to make her mother proud. That was all she could see, from horizon to horizon, her entire world. She couldn't see how her mother wouldn't want her to be lonely, couldn't see why a social life was as much part of High School as classes were; saw that as no more than a pleasant, but unnecessary, bonus.

Grades were what mattered to her, it was clear to me.

It wasn't that Haruhi-chan had suddenly become mean. More like… impatient. The more time she spent studying the more I could see her patience wearing thin with people who did not do the same, the more irritating she seemed to find people prepared to coast. I could see her growing resentment of those who abused what they were given- namely Kaoru-kun- while she had to work to get the same things. I could see that she tried to ignore it, but there was nothing to beat this resentment down and prove it wrong. It wasn't that she saw her peers as unpleasant, more irrelevant. I could see her sketchy opinion, her flimsy life.

It wasn't that she was against having friends. It was just that she hadn't gotten around to making any. Oh, certainly, she was pleasant enough, and would usually point you in the right direction if you needed help, but so coolly, so indifferently. She hadn't been heard to laugh yet, she was serious. The guys didn't understand this strange girl, didn't want to offend her, and steered clear. The girls tried to get her to join them but she didn't seem to have much in common with them, nor any real interest. They eventually steered clear too. Haruhi-chan was oblivious, had not cared for their efforts and hadn't seen them pass her by. She didn't notice much, secure in the words of the textbooks that were everything in her world.

I could see her world wouldn't extend much outside the classroom.

But what of the world outside the classroom? What if one were to walk along those corridors, as I did that day, running one's fingers along the wooden panels of the walls, beside the gleaming glass, below the high ceilings; to feel the cool marble? I can tell you, I saw it. It was an odd thing I saw, but picture if you will the crowds in the corridor parting, conversations fading, everyone looking down because they don't dare meet the eye of the person coming. A person so threatening, and yet, only just five foot tall.

I saw what would have happened to Honey-senpai without the club. It was freaking weird.

For once, let me begin by telling you two things I did not see. One was Usa-chan. The other was Morinozuka Takashi. Honey-senpai had, after all, done away with childish things. Usa-chan was not rotting away on a dump, you'd be glad to know. Honey-senpai was far more environmentally, and socially, friendly. The rabbit had been given away to a place where his seams were ripped open, the stuffing discarded and the fabric turned into pieces of blanket for the poor. I'm sure an Usa-chan blanket would be very warm, a worthy cause, but it did not look right anywhere besides in the arms of the little senior that I could see but scarcely believe my eyes.

Not that he physically looked any different, except maybe that he was walking instead of riding Mori-senpai's shoulders and that he wasn't smiling. I could see from his expression he didn't smile too much anymore. I could see, quite clearly, that Honey-senpai did not go in for that sort of thing anymore.

And I saw he was not 'Honey-senpai'. People had dropped that habit when he had expressed his annoyance at the name. Nowadays, he was Haninozuka. 'Honey' was cute, like some kind of Care bear, and he was expressly against that. After all, he was eighteen years old, far too old for such trivialities. He was the strongest martial artist in Japan, the toughest, the most manly. He had no interest in such things, and everyone knew it.

I could see then that perhaps if you keep pretending to be something you're not for long enough it might become who you are. Or rather, it would be like papering over a damp wall. The bricks and plaster behind the paper would crumble and rot, and if the paper ever came down, you'd be left with nothing but rubble and a void. Lest we forget, it was important for the Haninozuka family that the eldest son and heir was this way; and no-one had reminded him otherwise. With no-one to remind him, no sign of who he used to be, it didn't even exist anymore. Too late now, too far gone to go back.

He'd parted ways with Mori-senpai some time ago. He was strong, and tough, and certainly didn't need the older boy shadowing him, protecting him, _babying _him. But I could see it, even through all the layers of reasons and excuses and all the rest, the pain of parting from one's oldest and dearest friend as an individual, beyond just the pain of the end of an old tradition. Luckily, Haninozuka-senpai had the mental discipline that was in his blood and had been honed through training. The pain was bound away, never even to be noticed, never to be used, unless it needed to be drawn on in an emergency to grant the strength to defeat an opponent.

I could see how others treated him. The message was clear. No-one messed with Haninozuka-senpai.

And was that what he wanted?

I don't know, to be honest. I could see it was what he'd _forced _himself to want, certainly. I could see it was what his brother wanted, and that the younger adored the elder- although I could see the elder had very little time for the other. There was school, of course, and training, and contests. The Haninozuka name was not one to be taken lightly, and he was living proof. I could see his parents were proud. I could see they were a little worried too. He was everything he _should _be, but he didn't seem quite… happy.

And was he happy?

I don't know that, either. But I could see Haninozuka-senpai had never really considered it. Happiness was a selfish emotion to him, as irrelevant as Haruhi-chan found social status. Haninozuka-senpai had his responsibilities to fulfil after all, and he did enjoy doing them, or rather, enjoyed the satisfaction of being the best at them. Was he happy, though? I couldn't see. I wanted to run to him and shove some cake down his mouth until he remembered, but I couldn't. And I couldn't watch anymore.

Somewhere within that school, in actuality within four very specific walls, was the 'dismissed' Mori-senpai. I could see him in the dojo. Before school, at break, at lunch. Every time there wasn't a club in there and he wasn't obliged to be in class. I could see the hours build up as he trained alone, with other students, with teachers. I could see him giving quiet commands to his own club, the kendo club, and I could see how much they respected, appreciated their captain. When the dojo wasn't free, and he wasn't obliged to be in class or leading his team, I saw him. Often just sitting on the school roof, which seemed to be his favourite spot to eat lunch. He'd look out and see the magnificent view before him.

At first I could half picture him throwing himself off.

Thankfully, he did not see it that way. I could see what he made of it all- and that was that he was worried for Haninozuka-senpai. He knew that the blond had forced himself to behave that way, but hadn't wanted to interfere with the wishes of the Haninozuka family nor with those of his cousin. Mitsukini had tried to hard to become the way he was, so Mori-senpai didn't see it as his place to criticise. He hadn't corrected things, hadn't tried to explain the one perpetual truth he could see- that you had to be who you were meant to be. Only he couldn't see why. Or how you knew who you were or were not meant to be.

I sympathised with him. He could see more then most. But he still couldn't quite see everything. I suppose I do empathise most with Mori-senpai- I don't talk much either. But he and I can see that doesn't mean much. We can still have far too much in our heads, even if we don't share these things.

Mori-senpai was getting on alright without Haninozuka-senpai and the rest, I suppose. That's 'alright' in terms of how he got through the day. Doing the same things over and over, in the same order. Order indeed, the order of martial arts in a complicated and twisting world. I could see some strange pride and affection for his kendo team members, but it was a blue friendship, coloured with mutual interests and respect for skills, not one stained with the colours of liking someone for their personality. That was really about it. I could see he was liked among his peers, and that he liked most of them too- or, at least, he wasn't disliked. Simply, people just didn't know him too well. They hadn't known him long enough. Someone as quiet and as shy as Mori-senpai, I could see, was the sort of person who it was hard to befriend. People just couldn't see enough _to _befriend, because it wasn't like they ever had chance to spend an hour or two drinking tea with him.

I could see Mori-senpai living out his life of partial solitude, taking everything slowly and as it came. I could see everything about him in that world, how little there was, really, and how little of even that meagre amount was given to others. He had a sense of anticipation, I suppose, waiting for something to happen as he sat on the roof and ate a rice ball. Just a plain one. But I could see that nothing was going to happen. He was almost a shadow without a body to belong to. Sure, he'd get older, and graduate, and work with his family, and probably have a marriage of convenience to a woman he could get along with, even enjoy the company of. Yet, nothing would _happen_, at least, not the things he was somehow waiting for. He'd never really get any less shy, never make any of those particular friends nor have anything to do with that particular girl. He'd certainly be content, and probably would never ask for more, would never need it. He was content to stay patient, to keep waiting for something to happen as he looked out on the view.

I could only see the same bleak horizon from the school roof as he could.

I watched as he retreated from the roof, suffering the slightest twinges of annoyance. Today it was not as isolated as I could see it normally was. The man-with-a-mind-like-a-chimney, the kingdom-less shadow king himself, was there. With a girl.

And her tongue quite possibly down his throat, may I add.

Admittedly, I had never seen that one coming.

Let us not forget, however, that Kyouya-senpai was doing what he did best. He was not tied up by, for example, running a club and trying to finance the ever fickle whims of women and the president. His sister had left home a year or two ago, and any say she had was no longer a nuisance. I could see that, in his mind, he was doing nothing wrong. I could see he had no feelings for this girl at all. His relationship with her was as fake as it was with anyone else.

On the plus side, she was the only child of Japan's Health Minister. Relations between business and politics could certainly use improvement.

Unfortunately, it was very, extremely, crystal clear that the quickest way to do this was to allow Politics to slobber over Business.

I see some things I'd rather not, some times.

Kyouya-senpai's time in High School was more about forging future alliances then anything else. Certainly, this girl had been a little more… ambitious then most, but then, she had to be in this society. Kyouya-senpai hadn't really been expecting it to go beyond an apparent friendship, and just enough flirting to create a carefully calculated amount of tension. Just enough so she wouldn't forget him. So she might mention his family to her parents, or better, introduce him to them. It quickly became clear, however, from her blushing and stammering and the way her friends looked at her that he'd been more charming then he'd thought and she'd been reduced to this idiotic state. He'd decided to run with it- after all, she'd enjoy it, his parents would approve, and he'd get to meet hers. He didn't consider it cruel. After all, she was getting what she wanted. He was always gallant and tender to her. He bought her presents, left them in her locker. He had even walked her home. Yes, she loved every second; and in return, he was getting something valuable. When the relationship had run it's course, was of no more use to him, he would gradually and gently bring it down so as not to damage the alliance made. The upshot of which was that it wouldn't hurt her so much.

So what did it matter if he did not feel the same as she did? He wouldn't do her any harm. Besides, he couldn't deny it wasn't so bad having such a… passionate girl. He might as well enjoy the ride, right?

I couldn't believe it. I hated it. There was something so degrading in what I could see, and in what he apparently couldn't. But I could see that this Kyouya-senpai would never even begin to understand how that girl in his arms felt. Because he would never look twice at the only commoner in the school. She was an irrelevance.

Well, almost. Even with that girl in his lap, I could see he was not distracted. Still thinking. Still scheming. The thing about the commoner was, she might just become someone important, if her grades kept up. It might just be worth making her acquaintance.

But first, it seemed the girl was going to ask one of those troublesome questions. I could see his annoyance and discomfort grow.

"Kyouya." She said, quietly. "Do you…I mean, really, do you… love me?"

I could almost hear his internal sigh. I didn't want to see him lie to her. I hoped he wouldn't. And he didn't, but twisted out of it in a sneaky, snaky fashion. I watched him, with no remorse, place a hand to her face, stare into her eyes, and state without shame:

"Trust me. Trust yourself. Because you already know the answer to that question."

She looked guilty, and pulled him close again. "I'm sorry… I just find it hard to believe someone like you-"

"Ssh." He said. "I'm here with you. I wouldn't be if I didn't want to be."

Then he patiently bore it as she smashed her mouth to his again. How ironic it was that Kyouya-senpai, who I had always seen to be the least enthusiastic to take on designators, was still indulging girl's fantasies of his own accord!

It was disgusting, unbelievable, wrong. It plain to see things had gone too far, got out of hand; because there had been no good influence to force it away, out of reach. I was disgusted, yes, but I was sad too. Kyouya-senpai was not a bad person, no more than the twins were, no more than Haruhi-chan and Mori-senpai were unfriendly or Haninozuka-senpai was dangerous. I could see that they had been shaped that way by circumstance. I could see that who we are is very easily influenced and shaped by the experiences we have and the people we share them with. If those experiences never came, and if those people never met, and if certain ideas were not suggested in someone's living room or if certain people did not walk down certain corridors with high ceilings and wooden wall panels, glistening glass and cool marble, then the shape would be lost like a pot taken out of the mould before it's set.

I saw it come out of that mould all gloopy, if you'll excuse the analogy. I saw it.

Just imagine, just for a second, just entertain the notion for a moment, that Ouran's favourite fop had indeed never strolled so easily down those corridors. You know the ones, with the high ceilings; and never smiled down through the glass of the window either at someone passing below or indeed at his own reflection, and never drummed a rhythm on the wooden panels, his mind in music, nor ever played the piano in the third music room to send a melody through the marble pedestal. Where then, could he be found? I know. After all, I saw him. I saw him, if it was even the same person, after he had slipped further and further down the social ladder until he stood over an oven, his carefully-cared-for in another life face engulfed by steam before he replaced the lid on the saucepan.

"Almost done." He announced, and the other man in the kitchen nodded. The woman, however, came and swatted him away.

"You'll only burn them, Tamaki."

I could not be happy at the tone of resigned annoyance in her voice, the same tone Kyouya-senpai would have used if he had ever met the man, one that suggested an unwilling friendship. I could not be happy because while I could see his charisma had not failed him, everything else had. I could see some wounds on his heart that were left to run open, because he had no-one to use to bind them shut. I could see him push the wonderings at the identity of his father aside and save them for imaginings on a rainy day. I could see the dreams, such dreams, of getting a better job and a better life, taking his mother away from all of this, to a shining house like the one they'd once shared.

But I could also see the reality as he slipped out of the greasy kitchen's back door into a back alleyway of a town in France and stumbled home alone through the dark. I watched as the smile faded from his face as he fumbled in his pocket, finding a cent or two, a handful of euros. I could see how hard he tried, and it made my heart ache for him. I could see that even Tamaki-senpai could not smile all the time, how quickly he'd had to adapt to their ever changing monetary situation over the last few years, leaving school, finding work. I could see him as he hurried along, and into a building, and up some stairs. I could see his discomfort, too, as a man sitting in his doorway with some whiskey called out to him. Yet, even then, Tamaki-senpai had a smile and a kind word for him, and for all the poor wretches he met before he made it to the top floor, and a three roomed flat, that he entered and closed the door behind him.

I could see this really was all they could afford nowadays.

His mother was still with him, but she was asleep. I could see his worry as he still went about making dinner for them both. Her health hadn't improved, when they couldn't afford the best, private doctors; though the local team had done their best. It wasn't good for her to be living in this place, where however quickly he'd learnt to clean off the damp and block the draughts they always returned. I could see how desperately he wanted to take her away from all this, back to the luxury she'd grown up in, had given him for his childhood. She'd told him once his father was a wealthy Japanese man. Today was another day, I saw, where he considered tracking the man down and pleading, begging, demanding help; and dismissing it. Tamaki-senpai, I knew, would not leave her alone. I could see that an offer had never been made, that he had never been given the chance of moving across the world to save his mother's finances. I could see they here now with no way out.

But I could see something else too. Something that made it hurt all the more as he went and gently awoke her, tried to convince her to eat. I think Tamaki-senpai might have seen it too, though he tried to push it aside. It was clear that his mother wouldn't last too much longer. I didn't know how long, and I've never been any good at guessing games. Months, a year, years… it didn't matter. Only a fraction longer. And I saw that once she was gone, Tamaki-senpai really would be truly and utterly alone. No family, and no friends to use in it's place. No peers and no colleagues as the people who did his job always got out as fast as possible. Just him and the three-roomed flat, without even the stupid, idiotic idea growing until it could be voiced in an unwilling friend's living room. No dream-talk outside of his sleep, because he didn't dare to dream.

How I hated everything I saw. Without the Host Club, things weren't right. They simply, totally, in every way, weren't right. I couldn't stand to see the Hosts this way, Tamaki-senpai so alone and Kyouya-senpai so degraded; with Haninozuka-senpai unhappy and Mori-senpai discontent; Haruhi-chan obsessed and the twins in recline. They all needed the influence of all the others to be who they were meant to be.

Which, we've already established, is depressingly easily influenced.

Of course, it wasn't just the hosts I saw. On the other side of France, I saw a girl stay in a darkened room for weeks on end, playing games, because no-one in real life was quite as good. I saw a respected and liked class president resign because he couldn't bear working with his vice-president every day and her being oblivious to his feelings, and another boy kicking cans alone because no-one cared for his scary face. I saw a school newspaper shut down because they lost all respectability, a little girl remain frightened of her older brother until they grew distant and apart, and a guy go to study in England while leaving the girl he loved behind. A little boy crying when a girl moved away, and that same girl crying because she thought he didn't feel the same and Arai-kun getting his heart brutally trampled on when he tried to tell Haruhi-chan his feelings again and Ranka-san worried for his daughter and the superintendent guilty for abandoning his son. Too many people. Too many ripples in a butterfly effect of one idea being spoken in Kyouya-senpai's living room. Spreading wider and wider until-

"Everything okay?"

I took my fingers from the smooth wooden panels, paused in my walk, and turned my head to see a girl from my class smiling at me.

"Are you going to the club?" She asked and continued without waiting for the obvious answer. "Let's go together, okay?"

I nodded simply. Here I was, standing on my own ripple. I'd been curious about what I'd seen in these people, some strange determination, and I'd met other people who felt, although they did not see, the same. This girl was one of my closest friends, my best friend. We designated together, her for Honey-senpai and myself for Mori-senpai. Some days we'd invite another friend along, the daughter of the Japanese Health Minister- who thankfully never even dared dream about sticking her tongue down Kyouya-senpai's throat- but today it was just the two of us. She didn't mind my quietness anymore then she minded Mori-senpai's. The club had been good for me too, got me to socialise and people to take an interest in me and, as my friend was aptly demonstrating, chatter my ear off. Some days, I almost told her what I saw in people, almost spilled anything I knew.

But some things are better left unsaid.

She took hold of my arm and lead me down the corridor with the high ceilings, that gleaming glass, the wooden panels, the shining and cool marble that added class to the place and the laminate floorboards with the specks of gold. She smiled broadly again, cheered by the thought of seeing Honey-senpai, and asked what I'd been so deep in thought about.

"Nothing, really." I answered. "Just daydreaming."

"I wonder what goes on in that head of yours, sometimes." She rolled her eyes, and pushed open the door to find a room full of girls being entertained by several young men and someone who masqueraded as one.

I must confess, I was extremely glad to see it.

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A/N: And there it is. The end. Poor Tama-senpai… Ahem. Doesn't it make you glad that the club did get started? After all, what would we fanfic without it? Thanks for reading, everyone!


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